


Make a Shadow of Yourself

by laceaesthetic



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, theres isnt REALLY gorey violence i just wanted to tag up just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-10-04 21:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17312600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laceaesthetic/pseuds/laceaesthetic
Summary: In the dark coat of night, scheming criminals run rampant. What they don't know is that Daredevil is right on their heels.In the bright light of day, egotistical villains ransack the city. What they don't know is that Spider-Man is soon to interrupt them.In the milky twilight, their eyes meet, both awake while the world slumbers.Enemies to Friends to Lovers AU. Daredevil and Spider-Man have never met.





	1. No Dice

**Author's Note:**

> title is taken from florence + machine, "third eye"
> 
> theres a lot of lore thats been bunched up to make this au work, if you care about the logic of everything skip to the end notes and then come back, otherwise just keep reading

Peter likes to think that he knows all the big players in the game. He’s an Avenger, he _should_ know all the big players in the game. So seeing the devil in red spandex beat a drug dealer was a surprise. He doesn’t recognize the man giving the criminal a knuckle sandwich, but anything that brutal cannot be from a hero. Unsure of what to do, Peter stays behind and hidden, watching the scene play out to assess the situation.

 _Crack._ There goes the dealer’s arm, disjointed at the elbow. _Thump._ The dealer is now pinned against the wall.

“You leave, you run to wherever you feel safe, and you tell your friends that crime is no longer _welcomed_ at Hell’s Kitchen,” the devil says, entirely too loud for him to be talking to just the criminal he has in his hands. Peter’s too far away and too silent to have garnered attention, isn’t he? The masked man drops the victim and Peter watches the man run away with a limp arm. The devil does not move, instead, he raises his head and says, “I know you’re there. I hear your heartbeat. _Bump, bump, bump,_ that’s how fast it’s going. I can feel your body, you’re two buildings away from me and think you’re being sneaky. If you’re not guilty of the same crimes as that man, come out. Otherwise, _start running._ ”

Peter’s blood runs cold, but he steps out all the same. “I need to know if you’re on my side or not. You have a card or something I can check out?”

The man grimaces, “I align myself with no one. Leave Hell’s Kitchen before you make yourself a threat.”

Peter can almost laugh at the man’s audacity, “ Hey buddy, do you not know who I am? Really look at me and tell me if you know me?”

The man makes a frustrated noise as if looking is the hardest thing he can do, “No, I don’t know who you are and I don’t care. Scram before my patience runs out.”

“I’m Spider-Man. Part-time Avenger? Friendly and in your neighborhood? Does none of that ring a bell?”

The man’s mouth twitches for a moment before he goes back to his stoic façade, “Nice meeting you. The Avengers don’t need to get involved here. Hell’s Kitchen is _fine_ with me being its lone protector.” Leaving no room for argument, the man whips his head and runs off into the night. He probably had no plan and was just going to run around on rooftops until he heard something, Peter told himself. Though it did look cool.

 

The next day, he walked into Tony Stark’s office and asked for a favor. When he mentioned needing _any_ files on a red themed vigilante in Hell’s Kitchen, Stark nearly cried laughing.

“You had a run-in with the devil, I see, quite literally,” Tony said before pulling up the main file titled _Daredevil._

It was mostly a description of the man in costume, the fact that no one knew his identity, and the fact that he did _not_ like team-ups. Daredevil had been called upon once or twice in drastic events, but the file made it clear to avoid him unless his help was absolutely necessary. From Tony’s own electronic notes on the file, it seemed more like the man was a pain to deal with rather than plain out dangerous. Peter looked down the list of aliases first, dying to know what the people thought of him.

_The Man Without Fear_

_Devil of Hell’s Kitchen_

He’s not sure if being labeled and labeling yourself as a devil is better than being called a menace, but Peter is definitely sure it’s miles cooler. Eyewitness reports have a similar pattern of behavior for Daredevil. Innocent civilians are treated with care and smiles, always followed with a recommendation to the police or an attorney. Criminals were beaten an inch within their life, bones were broken, some even ended in comas. He was not a man to mess with. Leave it to Peter to poke the bear.

But he just couldn't help it, something about Daredevil got under his skin and  _completely_ bypassed his spidey-sense. It unnerved him.

 

Next patrol night, he stalks the edges of Hell’s Kitchen, daring himself to dive into its heart and hunt down the man he can’t stop thinking about.

He doesn’t have to, Daredevil comes in swinging with a crime boss in his arms. Before he can act, Daredevil punches the other man unconscious.

“Has anyone ever told you that you go overboard sometimes,” Peter quips.

The man gives out a growl before throwing the knocked out criminal over his shoulder, “I told you to stay out of Hell’s Kitchen. If my hands weren’t full, I’d beat you back into Queens.”

Peter webs the criminal, then webs Daredevil’s hands together. “Hey, now you can’t use your hands at all! My webs will dissolve in an hour, which means I can put an anonymous tip to the police and _not_ kill this man like you would’ve.”

“I don’t kill.”

“Look at the guy, is he even breathing?”

“Yes he is, and when the police arrive he will call his fancy lawyer, he will walk out of the jail cell you put him in, and he will go back onto the streets and I will have to fight him again next week. I will continue to fight him until I dismantle his operations by _beating the information of his hideouts out of him_ because jail and the justice system do nothing for men with heavy pockets.”

“Ye of little faith in the courts. How would you know the legitimacy of the inner workings of lawyers?“

“I’m a lawyer,” Daredevil replies, all sharp edges and scowls.

A beat of silence.

“Oh.” Peter lets the phrase run through his mind. “Can’t that get you disbarred?”

“Wow, I didn’t think of that, not even once. Of _course_ , it can, but it’s a necessary risk to me. Can’t _you_ be fired from whatever day job you have if your identity came out,” sarcasm is flowing out of Daredevil’s rough voice, but still Peter finds himself wanting to connect with the man.

“I’m a photographer. So, yeah.”

Another beat of silence.

“I don’t want to know your life story. Just get out of here,” Daredevil says softly.

“I am _just_ as qualified to be here as you are! I’m an Avenger! Are you an Avenger? No? Didn’t think so,” Peter rambles on.

Whatever sympathy Daredevil may have felt, it burns away with his rage, “Avengers bring trouble. Trouble is not welcomed in Hell’s Kitchen. Leave now, peacefully, or I _will_ treat you like my enemies.”

The heavy footfall of multiple men running for their lives and the shrill shriek of a woman break up their spat. Any tension between them is swiftly forgotten as they run to the source of the chaos.

Standing in the middle of the road like a cat dragged out of the water, is a woman with a deadly glare in her eye. She’s hunched over, long black hair concealing her face, dressed in all white like a bride left at the altar. _Hell,_ that could be what she is. All around her is carnage, cars abandoned and left with no drivers, shops empty of customers and employees alike. In a rare moment for New York, all is still and all is quiet.

Peter’s humor takes over, “Frankly speaking lady, I’m not for any reenactments of the Ring-“ 

“ _Shut up,”_ she yells and Peter’s ears begin to ring. He notices that Daredevil falls to his knees and starts clutching at his ears. Neither of these things deters the villainess. “You heroes are all the same,” she continues, “you say you’re for the people, yet you know nothing of us. You don’t care about us, all you care about is getting your fill of violence. You ruin these streets and parade around like you’re our saviors! You didn’t even ask me who I am, what I want, you’re a farce!”

Weakly, still down on the ground and finding his bearings, Daredevil retorts, “Then tell us what you want, who you are, and use _your inside voice_.”

The woman straightens her back to reveal her face, she smiles, perhaps half amused before answering, “I am Banshee, and I am tired of being _silenced!”_ Her last words echo in Peter’s brain, leaving him disoriented. His partner is in worse shape, screaming out in agony as he desperately tries to cover his ears. Banshee isn’t done yet, “For years I’ve spoken out against vigilantes. How they hurt more than they help, and _every time_ people would tell me to quiet down. They would tell me to stop rocking the boat. Well, I’m _done_ keeping my head, today I am done with letting you so-called heroes feed the masses your lies. I am going to _scream out the truth in every last one of your faces!”_ To add insult to injury, Banshee lets out one final cosmic yell before triumphantly walking away down the road to heaven knows where.

In the aftermath, Peter gets up before the other vigilante does. Daredevil is still on the ground, taking in shaky breaths and staring at the sky. Peter takes small steps towards him and notices that every step makes the other man flinch ever so slightly. He tries to say his next words in a whisper, “So you have super hearing-“

“Stop talking.”

“Is that how you knew how fast my heart was beating when we first met-“

“I said _stop talking.”_

“Well, that was just a rhetorical question really-“

  
The man sits up with a yell, almost lunging at Peter, but his vertigo gets the better of him and he misses, “ _This_ is the exact reason I don’t work with Avengers, all they bring is trouble!”

“To be fair, she was in Hell’s Kitchen and had no reason to presume I would be here.”

“But I’ll tell you where she goes _next._ The Baxter Building, Avengers Headquarters, any place she can find a conglomeration of heroes to yell her lungs at.”

That stops Peter, “You’re absolutely right, we _have_ to go and warn everyone.

Daredevil steadily gets to his feet, “ _You_ have to go and warn everyone. _I_ have to stay here and make sure Banshee doesn’t come back to Hell’s Kitchen.”

“I don’t think Banshee is scared of one man with sensitive ears. If anything, you’re scared of her.”

“Let me use your own words against you, what can one man with sensitive ears do against Banshee? Aren’t you a better fit to go and warn the rest of your crew? I’d end up down for the count quicker than you.”

Peter lets the noise of frustration he wants to let out die in his throat, instead, he goes for far more lethal words, “You’re not an Avenger because you’re no hero. I can see that now.”

Daredevil’s mouth twitches before he responds, “I never claimed to be a hero.” His head is turned away from Peter, stiff expression locked onto an empty building. Angered at the very sight of the other vigilante, Peter swings himself away to warn his other colleagues.


	2. Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the dust from the battle with Banshee settles, Matt Murdock continues his day peacefully under the radar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ao3 crashed on me and i forgot what i originally named the chapter :(

The Banshee incident is plastered all over the newspapers the day after it ended. The ironic poetry of an entire band of heroes having to take her down while wearing earplugs was not lost on any of them. Spider-Man is seen on the cover of nearly every article, and thankfully for Matt, Daredevil is almost suspiciously absent in the words of these same tabloids. Perhaps Matt can thank Ben Urich taking a soft spot for him, or perhaps he can thank himself for not getting into the fight. Either way, Matt enjoys a quiet lunch in his office without Foggy yelling at him about getting into dangerous situations.

That is until it’s interrupted by Peter storming into the room, bringing in with him the smell of chilled coffee and long-eaten baked goods. He’s in a frenzy, tidying things that Matt left crooked on the desk or on his shelves, the soft _clink_ of various decorations and frames giving him away. Matt hears deliberate footsteps, hears Peter huff. There’s silence for only a moment before Peter’s brain catches up with his actions.

“You can’t see it, but I’m very upset. And I put your coat on the coat hanger instead of letting it recline on the guest chair.”

Matt hums before responding, “Is your negative demeanor influenced by me in any way, shape, or form?”

“Did Foggy read you that newspaper on your desk yet?”

“No he didn’t,” he wouldn’t need to, but Matt lets that fact stay with himself.

“Then no, my anger is not directed at you.”

“What does the newspaper have to do with your sudden anger?” Matt can hear the _tap tap tap_ of Peter’s finger against his wooden desk as Peter thinks of what to say. “Did a photo not come out right?”

“That’s… close.” Matt hears the _creak_ of the chair as Peter beings to adjust his posture in it and can smell his off-brand cologne move through the room. Peter’s always said it was too subtle, but it served Matt’s nose just fine. “See, I saw _Daredevil_ with that Banshee villain-well not _with-_ against her with Spider-Man, the first time? And just as I was going to take a picture, he ran off. Now, everyone’s criticizing Spider-Man for not taking Banshee down sooner, but they’ve completely forgotten about Daredevil’s failure too!”

Matt took that fact as a win, but still, his conscience yearns to help Peter. “Maybe if you talked to a newspaper as an eyewitness account, others would speak up about seeing Daredevil. But I’ll be real with you, I don’t think its entirely worth it. _Every_ hero is getting dragged right now, Daredevil will have his moment of criticism eventually.”

Peter rolls his shoulders and stands up to sit at the edge of the desk to continue, “I know, but is it stupid of me to want some heat taken off of Spider-Man?”

“He’s your hometown hero. I get it.”

Matt hears the solid stomp of Peter’s feet as he stands back up and turns towards Matt, “Oh shit, I’m being insensitive, aren’t I? Daredevil is _your_ hometown hero and-“

“No hurt feelings here. It’s not fair that Daredevil gets off scot-free, I completely agree.” Matt gives what he hopes is a convincing and friendly smile in a direction he hopes Peter can see. His radar sense tells him that Peter doesn’t move, but he can hear him take in a breath. They sit in silence for a moment and Matt hears Peter’s heartbeat skyrocket for just moment, hears him forcefully exhale the air stuck in his lungs, and still Peter says nothing. “Is something on your mind?”

_Bum-bum-bum-bum_ goes Peter’s heart. “Ahh, not really,” the hitch of the rhythm in his heart gives him away.

“I won’t pry, but you shouldn’t be afraid to tell me things. Is it because I’m a lawyer?”

Peter gives a hearty laugh and his heartbeat climbs down, “You being a lawyer is the least of my worries.” He’s telling the truth. “I’ve just been thinking about a lot recently.” More truth.

Peter sits back down on the chair and huffs, “I’m going to sound _obsessive_ , but what do you think of Daredevil? You’ve met the guy, right? I’ve heard he can be a bit… _extreme._ ”

Matt hums in thought, thinking of how he should describe _himself_ while he dons the red mask. “He cares about people, that much is evident. Even though he does resort to some vicious behaviors at times, can you confidently say that those men don’t deserve it?”

The crinkle of the chair gives away that Peter is shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “But doesn’t it constitute as ‘cruel and unusual punish-“

“Perhaps that would matter if anyone was choosing to make vigilantes a part of the system-“

Peter makes a sharp noise of frustration, “I’m not going to argue about the law with you, _an attorney!”_

“You shouldn’t have broached the subject at all then,” Matt replied, his soft smile giving away his teasing nature.

Peter makes a vague noise and Matt takes note of the uptick in Peter’s heartbeat. Silence envelops them once more as Matt listens to the strong thrum he recognizes as Peter climb down. “Ah, you couldn’t see it but I waved my arms around in frustration.”

“Don’t worry, your frustration was so obvious even I could see it.” Peter’s loud, rumbling laugh washes over Matt like waves, filling him with the easy friendship Peter has always presented. He hears cotton and denim shuffling again and hears light footsteps come towards him, slow and methodical.

“Hey, I should be heading out by now. I won’t intrude on your lunch anymore, Mr. Workaholic.” Before the last word is out of his mouth, Peter’s hands are in Matt’s hair, patting at seemingly random parts. His breath is hot on Matt’s face in the cool air of the office, and suddenly it feels like Peter’s heart is drumming right into Matt’s ears.

“What are you doing,” Matt says, laughter coloring his words.

“Fixing your hair, because obviously, you can’t.” Their laughs intermingle as Peter’s hands find Matt’s shoulders and give a small shake. As their laughter dies down, Peter rushes to give Matt a crushing hug. “You know you’re my best friend, right?” His voice is soft in Matt’s ear, as soft as anyone could manage, and still, it rings in Matt’s ears an echoing statement of his fears and dreams. “And I know Foggy is your best friend but-“

“Foggy is… different. He’s my best friend. But so are you, and you don’t burp stale Doritos in my face, so I’d argue you’re better.”

Peter’s sharp bark of laughter is worth the pain in his head. “I love you.” Peter’s heart doesn’t skip a beat, it’s steady rhythm almost stops Matt in his tracks. “In that bromance type of way,” his booming laugh _almost_ covers the falter in his heart.

A moment of paranoia overtakes him, Matt can feel himself tensing up. Peter doesn’t move, still breathing steadily in Matt’s ear, and Matt lets himself say what’s been stuck in his throat for weeks, “I love you too.” No falter. “In that bromance type of way.” The faintest skip of a beat.

Peter unwraps himself from Matt, “I know that means a lot coming from the guy that is _convinced_ he brings nothing but harm to his loved ones-“

“Can you blame me?”

“No, but I’ve been in the same boat,” Matt hears the creak of the desk as Peter leans on it, “I just want to say I’m glad I _am_ a loved one, Matt. You’re a good person doing greater things, and I’m glad I get to see it.” He tries to cough but ends up laughing, “That’s enough emotional talk, I actually need to get going.”

Matt hears the footsteps lead to the entrance of his office and stop. “Are we still on for antiquing on Saturday, Matty?”

He gives Peter a big smile, “Yeah, we’re on for antiquing.”

The slow tap of fingers against the doorframe lets Matt know that Peter hesitated before leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HHHHHHH follow me on twitter  
> laceaesthetic  
> yeah das it YEEHAW


	3. Snake Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donning his superhero clothes, Peter attempts to find some more answers.

In the early morning light, Peter knows he should call it a day. Still, he finds himself lingering on the edge of the city like a scorned pet. He scales the rooftops with childish abandon; in part searching for crime, and in part searching for his rouge devil. He skirts the territory of Hell’s Kitchen, hoping to raise whatever, magical or otherwise, alarms Daredevil has in place. He’s about to give up the chase and head home when he hears a heavy _thump_ behind his back. He is no idiot as to think that Daredevil _accidentally_ stepped too heavily, the guy had the grace of a trained ballerina. He wanted to be found by Peter. Slowly, Peter turns around to face him.

“I need your help,” Daredevil says, the sunrise facing his back and blocking his figure. The silhouette continues to speak, “I have a lead, but I _know_ that I’ll be outnumbered. So I’m asking you to help me.”

“Well hornhead, I think I might pass _out_ before we get to any of the real fighting-“

“There’s no time,” he says, exasperated, “The undergrowth of this city move like sharks, any information I gather can be rendered null within the hour.”

“Well if I’m not on my best, you can blame it on my sleep deprivation.” Truthfully, Peter has enough energy to last him well into noon, his old habits as a college student still linger in his sleeping habits.

“I find that hard to believe Spider-Man,” Daredevil retorts, almost scoffing at Peter’s comment. Before he can defend his honor, the other vigilante begins to run towards the edge of the rooftop. Before he jumps off to the next building, Daredevil turns his head back Peter and smiles sarcastically, “Are you coming?” Peter follows wordlessly.

 

His _partner_ ¸ since Peter can’t find any other word to describe him, takes them to an abandoned building. Its ceilings seemed to rise for miles, the wide echoing halls seemed to announce their footsteps to the entire floor—and the fourteen floors above them. Daredevil says nothing, standing still and clenching his jaw. Peter decides to break the silence.

“When you said that they move within the hour, I didn’t know you meant that _literally-“_

The rest of his sentence is knocked out of his lungs as Daredevil smacks his sternum in warning. He hears the soft hiss of the man trying to shush him. In the steady glow of a rising sun, Peter sees two figures emerge from the shadows. Too late, does he realize his mistake.

“Why? What do we have here,” comes the silvery voice of a villain Peter knows all too well.  
“Black Cat! What are you doing in Hell’s Kitchen?” Daredevil steals his thunder before Peter could even open his mouth.

“It’s just the most annoying thing, Daredevil. I had to pick up a delivery. Can you imagine that? Me? Reduced to a mere delivery girl?” The villainess begins to daintily tiptoe around the building, careful to not too close to the heroes. The second figure, covered by a dark robe, remains still.

“What are you _picking up_ ,” Daredevil says through gritted teeth. He takes a step forward, but Black Cat takes two steps back quickly and holds up a hand.

“Not so fast, sweetheart!” The second figure takes one slow, deliberate step back to get closer to their partner. “Of course it _is_ a very special package. I couldn’t afford to lose it in the postal system, why I didn’t even know if our usual transport _would_ pass it off to me. It just had to be done personally,” she babbles on, as if discussing a postcard.

Daredevil clenches his fists, “You still haven’t answered my question.” Peter sees Daredevil inch towards the robed figure, rather than the villain he’s talking to.

“Fine then! Enough chit-chat,” she begins, smiling like a predator staring down its prey, “I won’t _tell_ you. I’ll show you!” In a rapid flurry of motions, Felicia takes an energetic step forward to grab her partner’s shoulder and pull the robe off. The figure raises their head and another familiar face is revealed. “Banshee,” she begins, her hands raise to reveal that she is cradling a pair of earplugs, “take care of these boys, will you?” Black Cat swiftly protects her ears and begins to run for an exit.

Daredevil _tries_ to reach Banshee before she can do any harm, but her lungs are faster than his legs will ever be.

“I would wipe you off of the face of the earth if I could!” Her roars send Daredevil buckling to his knees. Peter staggers back in a futile attempt to separate himself from the piercing cries that rattle in his brain. All at once, Peter sees Black Cat dramatically take out a remote, and he sees Banshee grab the horns of Daredevil’s helmet and begin to _pull,_ and in one smooth motion half of his helmet is removed, and only the fact that he is looking down saves his identity, and through the dull ringing he hears a voice yell in anger.

“Leave him Banshee! The place is falling apart by the seams,” Black Cat advises. Banshee scowls but follows her directions anyways.

True to her word, debris begins to fall rapidly. A large chunk of wall falls onto Daredevil’s head, it knocks the last stretch of his mask off and sends his face to the floor.

“Dare-“ the sight almost shocks him into silence. Behind the mask is a face Peter has seen every day for the past five years. “Oh my god, Matt? Matty? Stay with me!” The shocking ginger hair is unmistakable, and Peter is filled with so much anxiety at the thought of losing _Matt_ that he nearly cries. The rubble around them seems to fall down quicker as Peter’s shaking hands pull Matt’s mask over his face again. Quickly, he takes Matt into his arms and webslings his way to the top floor and out through an open window.

He hurriedly finds a rooftop far enough from the collapsing building that the police won’t find them. Matt is still limp when Peter lays him against the floor, and Peter feels his heart beat a mile a minute.

“Matt? Are you with me? Matt?”

The redhead groans, “Everything is… too much.” He takes a labored breath, “M’name’s not… not Matt.”

Peter restrains himself from laughing at his pitiful attempt at keeping his identity. He takes Matt’s hand in his and brings it to his chest. “It’s _okay_ Matty. Feel my heartbeat. You _know it_. It’s me. It’s Peter.” Matt inhales in shock.

“Peter,” he says breathlessly, one single word filled with so many emotions it makes his head spin.

He mumbles his next words, knowing Matt will hear him all the same, “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll get you to my place, you’ll heal-“

“My place is closer,” Matt says quietly.

Peter laughs, “Yeah, you’re right. It is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as aaaaaaaaalways shout out to drew!!!  
> but also shout out to brenda bc she wanted more banshee content!!  
> twitter: aliasesjones


	4. By Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After failing to capture Banshee nor Black Cat, Peter and Matt recuperate. Peter grapples with Matt's identity reveal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo its been a while! but i did in fact finish this so im p proud of that! its a little shorter than i hoped but i think short is better than not being published at all :)
> 
> twitter: aliasesjones

Matt’s apartment is slightly more lavish than Peter remembers it. As he opens the door with the man leaning heavily on his side, he takes a moment to register the new layout of the space. There’s more furniture — more places to bump into, or drag blood across, or hold onto for balance, or throw in a fit. Peter takes another step forward. The space feels full, almost bursting at the seams with the various possessions Matt has acquired over time. Peter tries not to stare. Everything feels  _ new,  _ now knowing that it was not just Matt who bought these, but Daredevil too. He closes the door quietly.

With little effort, he lays Matt against the couch. He gives himself a moment to breathe. A moment to think. Matt’s breath has steadied. His gasps are now light and full of relief. The morning sun has come in full rage, illuminating every contour of his fretful face. Peter takes in the milk-white scars that adorn Matt’s eyes and the bridge of his nose. He’s seen them before. He’s seen them when Matt pushes up his glasses and rubs his eyes in frustration. He’s seen them when Matt takes them off entirely and leans forward whenever he makes a promise to Peter, even if Matt’s eyes never meet his. He’s seen Matt take them off, but he always grips them in his hand tightly or keeps them on his head. Matt does not let go of his glasses. Matt does not let go of his glasses because there are only a handful of people who can see Matt without his glasses, at his most vulnerable. 

It begins to dawn on Peter, the incredibility of a blind man being Daredevil. His mind tries to connect the pieces of what he knows about Matt and what he knows of the vigilante. Matt has taken multiple self-defense classes. “To feel safer,” has always been his reasoning. Daredevil is an experienced fighter, moving with techniques that echo what Peter has only seen on TV. Both of these facts have always awed Peter. He had never had been much of a fighter. Even with his super-strength, he’d be dead ten times over without his web-shooters. He glances at Matt’s muscles, toned and noticeable no matter what he wears. He thinks of his own lithe form that mirrors a ballerina. He thinks the math checks out. He looks back at Matt’s scars, delicate bumps and grazes on even more delicate skin. The result of a chemical accident, Matt had said once and never again. He thinks of his own ‘chemical accident’ — his spider bite — and suddenly the puzzle is complete. The accident did more than take Matt’s sight, though exactly what is still unknown. Peter thinks about it for a moment. Peter doesn’t think about it for long.

Matt’s eyes flutter open, the ginger eyelashes blending along his pale skin. The foggy, clear blue eyes Peter has committed to memory stare at the ceiling before his head lazily rolls towards Peter’s direction. His eyes are unfocused, staring off into space.

“You’re wondering about how I became Daredevil aren’t you,” comes his raspy voice, filled with good-natured humor. A few short coughs follow as his body begins to reacquaint itself with the problems that plague it.

With a wry smile, Peter responds, “Is one of your powers reading minds?”

“No, I’m just very good at reading you.” Peter has no response. Matt continues, “The accident took my sight, it amplified all my other sense by eightfold.”

“Eightfold,” Peter echoes.

Matt chuckles at his intense listening. “More or less.” He gives Peter a wry smile of his own, and in a sickly sweet voice, he says, “I know you’re there. I can hear your heartbeat.  _ Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.  _ It’s much calmer than when you first met me in this suit.”

Peter blushes at the mention of his first run-in with Matt’s alter-ego. “You were a lot more intimidating then.”

Matt hums in thought. “Now that I think about it, you being Spider-Man makes sense. Even though your heartbeat changes slightly with adrenaline, the basis of you is still the same. You have the same scent. Subtle cologne trying to cover whatever baked good you had for breakfast. Maybe the scent of spandex covered it,” he laughs again, “I don’t think you even tried to mask your voice.”

He smiles at Matt, “That’d be the work of Dr. Strange.” Matt raises an eyebrow. “I had a run in with people knowing my identity, Stephen cleaned the situation right up for me. Not even superior senses can tell someone my identity.” Matt nods sagely, then falls into silence again as his eyes flutter close. Peter takes the opportune lighting as an excuse to stare. The area around Matt’s lips are slightly bruised from falling, the tip of his nose slightly scuffed. His gaze keeps falling onto his pink, chapped lips.

“Your heart is too loud. I can’t sleep,” Matt says, eyes still closed.

“Sorry,” he responds breathlessly. After a moment’s hesitation, “It’s a bit invasive that you can hear my heartbeat without my permission and I can’t even fathom what you’re thinking.”

He watches Matt’s arm extend out to where he is kneeling in front of him. “Here, feel my heartbeat.” Peter holds Matt’s wrist in his hands gently, getting ready to find a pulse. “Mm, no,” with no further explanation he pulls one of Peter’s hand towards his chest, forcing Peter to lean forward, closer to him.

His hand is splayed out on Matt’s chest, hearing the faintest thrum of a hot heart. Matt lazily rubs circles on Peter’s fingers. His own heartbeat echoes in his ears. “It’s too faint,” he shakily says.

“ _ Bum, bum, bum,”  _ Matt says quietly. Peter takes note on how fast it seems to be. As Matt continues on, the breath of his words tickle Peter’s nose, they’re tantalizingly close, just one little inch forward and — ”Isn’t it amazing that we’re best friends and we’re both superheroes?” Matt’s question takes Peter out of his stupor.

“I guess we don’t have to worry about the other getting hurt because of our job.”

“But we still have to worry about the other protecting his identity.” Peter nods in agreement, an empty, but automatic, gesture. Matt groans before shifting up slightly, hand still interwoven with Peter’s atop of his chest, “I’m covered in dirt, help me get to the shower.”

“Woah, wait, are you sure you can stand up alone long enough to actually shower?” He feels his pulse accelerate at the thought of Matt getting  _ more  _ injured.

“I can sit in a shower.”

The answer does nothing to ease Peter’s anxieties. “I’ll wet a towel and clean you from here.” Too tired to protest, Matt just lays back down on the couch.

The bright windows, completely open, is beginning to heighten Peter’s nervousness. Nothing spidey-sense worthy, but just plain common sense. Before heading to the sink, he strides to the brown curtains. They’re made of silk, smooth to the touch and light in his hand and he drags them closed. Now that he surveys the apartment again,  _ everything _ is made of some nice material or other. He chalks it up to heightened senses. They must have high demands.

He walks towards the kitchen first to grab a bowl. He opens the cabinet closest to the fridge, remembering Matt’s meticulous plate organization. Just as expected, a variety of bowls sit on the lowest shelf — for convenience’s sake whenever Matt wants to eat a bowl of cereal. He grabs one at random and walks towards the sink. 

His hand hovers over the left knob before he hears Matt’s voice, “Whatever you do, don’t fill the bowl with cold water.” Peter takes a moment to assess the knob he was going to twist. He notices the polished  _ C _ on it. Wordlessly, he reaches for the right knob instead.

He then walks to the bathroom to grab a cloth. The sight is shocking. It’s almost as if a hurricane stormed through the room. There are clothes on the floor and personal towels strewn about. On the sink are discarded razors, covered in short, ginger hairs. The guest towels seem relatively undisturbed. He grabs one and quickly retreats. In the back of his mind, he wonders if he should mention the mess to Matt. The sight of Matt laying pitifully on his couch convinces him not to.

Hastily, he grabs the bowl he left in the sink and walks back to Matt. Kneeling before him, Peter takes a moment to observe Matt’s state. There’s still dust in his hair. There are still nasty bruises where his face connected with concrete. Peter dips the towel into the water and lets the silence consume them. With slow, careful strokes, he cleans his friend’s face.

It’s harder to see him now. He’s swathed in the grey of fractured light, but Peter still finds it hard to stare straight at Matt. He leans in, almost unthinkingly, observing the part of Matt’s lips as he breathes heavily. They’re so close now. Peter’s face hovers over Matt’s. He has the sudden urge to —

“Kiss me,” Matt says plainly. Peter’s hand stills over Matt. Drops of water fall onto his chest.

The world does not stop. There’s an ache in Peter’s shoulder from webbing too aggressively. Life is not perfect. But hearing those words is as perfect as Peter will ever hear. He complies with Matt’s request. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing special. Matt’s hand lingers on Peter’s jaw, cradling it as one would cradle a glass vase. It is the intent, the promises, behind the kiss that electrifies Peter’s veins.

“I would lay down my life for you,” Matt says, as if the words were bubbling in his chest, dying to get out.

“I’ll make sure you never do,” Peter replies, voice raw from an all-encompassing feeling of love he did not know was there a moment before.

They face each other, breathing in and calming their hearts. Then, Peter takes the towel and begins to wash Matt anew. The early morning sun persists through the curtains. For one moment in their hectic lives, all is fine.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter to get exclusive peeks of what ill write next: @laceaesthetic  
> okay so things that have been modified for this au are:  
> daredevil and spiderman have never met at all, not even once  
> matts identity has never been exposed, by him or someone else, so nobody knows who he is unless matt told them  
> the spell that stephen strange did so no one could figure out peters identity unless he told them is still in place  
> therefore, matt and peter couldve met in civilian clothing and not figured out the others identity upon meeting in costume  
> avengers dont know JACK about daredevil because every time they ask him about himself hes like "huh. fuck you." and leaves  
> i am not a comics expert so like i introduced a new villain and if there was a similar villain to her in any comics uhhh my bad b but whateeevs shes not relevant i promise, i just wanted to work with introducing new villains because its something ive always been scared of doing  
> please dont ask me what phase of avengers (i.e. tower/house/etc) this is in. i dont know shit about jack when it comes to avengers and i didnt feel like reading their comics. i made it ambiguous and the avengers are irrelevant so leave me alone


End file.
